A Question of Attraction
by pagerunner
Summary: Unabashed romantic fluff, because these things happen. Inspired by bits of the dialogue from the "Condos" clips floating around, but no direct references or spoilers.


Cecil has a gift for asking impossible questions, and often at the most intimate of times.

They're sprawled on Carlos' bed together, bathed in bright sunlight, when Cecil murmurs, "What are you thinking about?" It takes Carlos a moment to reply. He shifts against the crumpled bedsheets, while one finger traces out constellations between the freckles on Cecil's shoulder.

"Perception," he says at last, feeling his way toward the answer with each word. "How each of us sees things. What our biases can make us miss…or discover."

"Mmh. Go on."

Carlos tries. He opens his mouth, closes it, shrugs almost sheepishly. Eventually he decides to keep it simple. "I'd never have known about these, if we weren't here," he says. "Now I can't stop looking."

When he bends to press a kiss to Cecil's shoulder, tasting every tiny mark, he hears - and feels - Cecil laugh. "And you," Cecil says warmly. One hand cups Carlos' hip. "You _do _have a tattoo."

Carlos withdraws, smiling self-consciously. "You didn't notice last time?"

"I only got a glimpse. I guess I was preoccupied." Cecil's eyes glint with curiosity. "What is it? It looks…scientific."

Carlos watches Cecil's thumb brushing over the lines. "It is. It's the chemical structure of epinephrine." When Cecil's eyebrows lift, Carlos adds, "Adrenaline. Mira's joke. She was a…classmate back in college. She kept accusing me of being a closet adrenaline junkie."

He sounds amused. "Really?"

"That was about what I said. _She_ was the one jumping out of planes and rappelling off cliffs and sneaking into things all over campus. But she kept saying I was actually the reckless one. That I kept doing all the dangerous experiments, and taking the biggest risks with our projects, and-"

_Coming here, _he thinks, but doesn't say. It feels out of place, anyway, in this safe, light-filled room. It's cluttered and comfortable and - with Cecil here - wonderful, and he still doesn't have the words to encompass it. So he ducks his head, waiting until the intensity of the thought passes.

"Anyway," he says. "The tattoo…"

"Yes?"

"She dragged the whole team out one night after we'd been working too late on something, and…well, that happened." Carlos finds himself smiling. "Could be worse. Rudy's the one who got the formulation for LSD stamped on his ass."

Cecil laughs again. After a minute, he cuddles closer. There's a knowing look in his eyes. "Sounds like a close team."

"Mm-hmm."

"So did you have any…special friends there?"

Carlos sputters out a laugh. "God, Cecil."

"What?"

"No one should be allowed to make 'special' sound that dirty."

There's a low, pleasantly reverberant chuckle. "I'm just curious. I don't know much about your life before Night Vale." Cecil's shoulders move in a shrug. "And I'm…"

"A reporter," Carlos says softly. "You always do want to know."

Cecil gives him an innocent smile. It's almost believable. Carlos smiles, shakes his head, and tries to think of what to say. "Yes," he says eventually. "For a while. But…that was a long time ago."

"Who was it, then? Rudy? Someone else?"

He blushes, remembering. "Mira, actually."

Cecil makes a small, surprised noise. Carlos leans back against the pillows, slowly turning over his thoughts.

"It was…well. It sounds awful to call it an experiment." He pauses, and Cecil touches his arm. "But I wanted to know for certain. I don't know what it was like for you, figuring out…attraction, and all that…but…"

_But I approached it like everything else, _he thinks. _Methodically. Testing my theories. Narrowing things down from all the variables. _He fidgets with a fold in the sheets, hoping, as he always did, that Mira hadn't been hurt in the process.

"It wasn't that it was bad," he says hesitantly. "Sometimes it was even good. But it wasn't-"

He turns his head. Cecil meets his gaze so openly, so guilelessly, that all Carlos can do is say, "This."

Cecil's lips part, and he takes a moment just to breathe. As he does, something flutters past outside, casting a brief, strange pattern over his face. But then it's all bright light again and the quiet sound of his breathing, of distant traffic and wind.

"Were you ever really in love with anyone, before?" Cecil asks. Carlos blinks. Cecil just keeps watching him, fingers starting to trail up Carlos' arm in gentle exploration.

"I'm not sure," Carlos admits.

"I'd thought I was, once or twice. There were…infatuations. And there's something intoxicating about that rush of possibility, that first bright spark…"

Carlos thinks fleetingly of the others Cecil's mentioned, in fragments of conversation or in moments on the radio. He wonders if what he's feeling now is envy, that they'd had time with Cecil that he'll never know.

But Cecil is still talking.

"I felt that for you, too," he says, almost shyly, as if Carlos hadn't noticed those first few broadcasts way back when. "But it lasted. It grew. And when it's…_this…_that's something special."

Carlos relaxes, enjoying the feeling of those words. Then Cecil moves beside him, not just for closeness but also to pull some wayward bit of bedding into place. The frame creaks.

"Not to mention when you're willing to put up with my cheap furniture," Carlos adds ruefully. "And my inconvenient schedule."

"_Morning people," _Cecil says with feeling, nudging him with one foot.

"And the difficult experiments. And the fact that I'm never as good with words as you."

Cecil brushes that off, his expression fond. "There are so many other reasons it's worth it."

"Like…?"

"Well. The scenery is its own reward."

Carlos laughs, knowing he's turning bright red. He can practically _hear _Cecil's smirk. But he props himself up anyway to return the gaze. They're both still naked, after all, save for Cecil's left sock, which somehow never got removed. It's patterned with little cartoon bunnies. Somehow, this is both the most ridiculous and most endearing thing that Carlos has ever seen.

"You're not so bad yourself," he says after a good look at the rest of it. Cecil's eyes practically twinkle.

"Why, Carlos. Are you _flirting?"_

"If you have to ask…" He laughs. "I never said I was much good at it."

"Oh, but you are. You got us this far, after all." Cecil leans closer. "And I hope you realize that when you start reaching for words, because what you're feeling is so much more than you can say…"

Carlos' eyes flutter almost shut when Cecil's fingertips brush his hair, and slide down to touch his jaw.

"I feel just the same." Cecil gives him a sideways smile. "You know me, blurting out ridiculous things."

"I never mind."

"And every complicated metaphor of yours, every murmured discursion…I think I love you the most, then."

Carlos, going warm all over, presses gently into Cecil's touch. "Noted. Talking science is good."

"Talking science." Cecil's hands move. "Demonstrating science. Both things work."

"Just how metaphorical are we-" His hands move again, until Carlos can only groan and say, "Oh. All right. _Demonstrating_ science."

"It's like you were saying a minute ago. Matters of attraction, and all that." Cecil's still sounding suspiciously good-humored. "I'd love to be around for those experiments."

Carlos laughs, and almost comes up with a reply - but he decides before long to cast caution to the wind again and go for the direct approach. _After all, maybe the questions are impossible, _he thinks. _But figuring it out, exploring, stumbling into unexpected revelations…_

Cecil melts into the kiss with such open enthusiasm that if Carlos weren't happily occupied, he'd be smiling as wide as the world.

_Yes. That part's pretty much perfect. _


End file.
